For the first time in my adult life I cannot watch — or read — the news. Its presentation profoundly upsets me. I have not read, heard or watched the news from Israel/Palestine for over a week. I am afraid doing this has made me feel better. I have asked around and many other people are doing the same.
I would normally consider it shocking to not know what is going on elsewhere in the world. We owe it to common humanity not to ignore inhumanity, wherever it occurs. We should listen and at least sympathize, even if to no concrete purpose. The obligation on journalists is more specific; it is to supply the requisite information, which could be unpleasant to collect and convey. I have visited war zones and found it harrowing. Unspeakable horrors are occurring somewhere on Earth all the time. The media might only have space for just so much. When did you last hear about Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo — or even Ukraine? Yet the effort must be made, not dodged.
Now we have the most intensive, 24/7 coverage of extreme violence that I could recall. The evening news coyly says that scenes are “too awful to show” and then that “viewers may find some scenes distressing,” as if to draw us from whatever else we are doing. This is tabloid television, offering a ghoulish gloss on what news ought to be about, which is facts and their informed interpretation. Yet it is assumed that we cannot handle this, and instead we are given endless vox pops with people on the ground. We need something to stir the emotions. In this respect, television is in a different league from radio and the printed press.
Horror fuels a dangerous instinct: that of blame. Since every vox pop from Gaza must be preceded or followed by one from Israel, viewers are drawn into arguments fueled by heat and not light. There is no history or background. Tearful victims get more time than decisionmakers or experts. After the blame comes the overwhelming sense of impotence. What can we do? Should we shout, march, write or shut up? Mostly, we feel sad and return to our lives, pretending nothing has changed. Or at least most of us do.
Psychologists tell us how to cope with bad news when it affects us personally. They advise us to analyze it, assess the risk, seek a way forward and take action. Yet that is when it is personal and we have some agency over events. The evils of the outside world are in a different mental sphere. We cannot do anything directly about them and must remain spectators of other people’s agony. During the COVID-19 pandemic, addictions to “doomsurfing” and “doomscrolling” soared. People obsessively monitored news of the pandemic by the hour. This led to sensations of fear, sadness and anger, and an increase in cases of depression and trauma. As with bad news generally, its appeal was said to be an evolutionary response to potential danger — humans crave a warning.
There must be a limit. It is one thing to be occasionally reminded of the suffering of others and of our own impotence when it comes to changing the world around us. I cannot see that relentless real-time depictions of horror is instilling any virtue. We — and our children — are expected to witness screaming, bleeding, angry people, night after night. This cannot increase public understanding of what is happening, only add to anger, discord and mental distress. I want to watch the news; what is being shown is something different.
Simon Jenkins is a Guardian columnist.
The gutting of Voice of America (VOA) and Radio Free Asia (RFA) by US President Donald Trump’s administration poses a serious threat to the global voice of freedom, particularly for those living under authoritarian regimes such as China. The US — hailed as the model of liberal democracy — has the moral responsibility to uphold the values it champions. In undermining these institutions, the US risks diminishing its “soft power,” a pivotal pillar of its global influence. VOA Tibetan and RFA Tibetan played an enormous role in promoting the strong image of the US in and outside Tibet. On VOA Tibetan,
Former minister of culture Lung Ying-tai (龍應台) has long wielded influence through the power of words. Her articles once served as a moral compass for a society in transition. However, as her April 1 guest article in the New York Times, “The Clock Is Ticking for Taiwan,” makes all too clear, even celebrated prose can mislead when romanticism clouds political judgement. Lung crafts a narrative that is less an analysis of Taiwan’s geopolitical reality than an exercise in wistful nostalgia. As political scientists and international relations academics, we believe it is crucial to correct the misconceptions embedded in her article,
Sung Chien-liang (宋建樑), the leader of the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) efforts to recall Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) Legislator Lee Kun-cheng (李坤城), caused a national outrage and drew diplomatic condemnation on Tuesday after he arrived at the New Taipei City District Prosecutors’ Office dressed in a Nazi uniform. Sung performed a Nazi salute and carried a copy of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf as he arrived to be questioned over allegations of signature forgery in the recall petition. The KMT’s response to the incident has shown a striking lack of contrition and decency. Rather than apologizing and distancing itself from Sung’s actions,
US President Trump weighed into the state of America’s semiconductor manufacturing when he declared, “They [Taiwan] stole it from us. They took it from us, and I don’t blame them. I give them credit.” At a prior White House event President Trump hosted TSMC chairman C.C. Wei (魏哲家), head of the world’s largest and most advanced chip manufacturer, to announce a commitment to invest US$100 billion in America. The president then shifted his previously critical rhetoric on Taiwan and put off tariffs on its chips. Now we learn that the Trump Administration is conducting a “trade investigation” on semiconductors which
RSS